


Keep Your Shield Up (on hiatus)

by apensivelady



Category: Captain America (Comics), Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-02 03:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8649910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apensivelady/pseuds/apensivelady
Summary: Steve Rogers is Captain America once more. Having recovered his youth, he will have to readapt not only to his modified body, but to the Captain America mantel as well.





	1. Out of Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Upon the reveal that Captain America was now canonically a member of Hydra, many theories emerged to explain how the Star Spangled Man could have become part of a criminal and terrorist organisation that he had fought during his whole life. Following this trend, I came up with my personal theory of what a Captain America who is also an agent of Hydra could mean. Thus, this story was born.
> 
> Generally, this story accepts Captain America’s comics’ canon as its background.

_You don’t have to go. You can stay if you like. I can make you **strong** again. I can make you a **hero** again_.¹

It was only a few days ago that Steve Rogers had had his physical youth restored, but the words still echoed in his ears. He had accepted his fate. He knew he was about to die, and he realised he could be proud of himself and happy in his final hour. He realised it was time. Time for him to finally know peace. And yet… Yet, the little girl had reached to him. _You don’t have to go. You can stay if you like. I can make you **strong** again. I can make you a **hero** again_. She extended him her hand. And he reached for her. Peace and rest he threw aside. And for what? To protect that little girl? Because of Pleasant Hill? So Crossbones did not have the last word? Because he was greedy and wanted to live **more**? These questions pestered him as much as the little girl’s words. Never before had he been so haunted by his own decision.

After having lived for quite some time in a body that matched his chronological age, Steve felt strange having a physical structure so inconsistent with his years. How could his body be unchanged, if his inner self had changed so much? And how could he also feel like he was still that sickly kid who accepted being turned into the first super soldier of America? Having lived a life surrounded by the extraordinary did not make it any easier for him to understand.

His mind went back to Pleasant Hill, a technological internment camp in disguise that deprived its inmates not only of their liberty, but also of their freedom. Steve’s mind couldn’t stop. If Maria Hill had managed to accomplish an abomination like Pleasant Hill, what had others been able to accomplish? On his aimless walk around Brooklyn, he asked himself how much had the world really changed.

Much like himself, the world had changed a lot since he was born. Yet, still much like himself, the world felt incredibly the same. The world was restless; as restless as it had been in his youth, right before the start of World War II. That restlessness soon led to a search for its culprits, and once culprits were indicated, hatred towards them came into being. Their segregation and internment followed.

It was easy to forget how much Pleasant Hill resembled the past; after all, its inmates were criminals. However, had any of those prisoners done what Maria Hill and S.H.I.E.L.D. had, the resemblance to days past would not be so easily forgotten.

Pleasant Hill wasn’t the only sign of the world’s restlessness, though. And fortunately, society at large had not learnt about Director Hill and S.H.I.E.L.D.’s actions. Right now, the present state of the country and the world were enough to occupy the minds of the people, who had already determined the culprits for the current state of affairs. Hatred was spreading at a remarkable fast and furious pace. Brother turned against brother, inside and outside national borders. Slowly, people started to willingly give up on their freedom; all in order to feel safe. To **feel** safe, not to actually **be** safe.

**_We_** _the people of the **United** States_ ; that was how the nation’s founding charter started. Yet, who were those we? Who were those people? How could he not question these things, when he increasingly saw some people felling to be more people than their fellow men?

_Black lives matter_ was written in red ink in one of the walls he had just passed. Back when that _we the people of the United States_ was first written, African-Americans were not considered people; they were not part of those **_we_**. The 13th, 14th and 15th Amendments had to pass almost a hundred years after the original **_we_** was put down into paper, so that African-Americans could be considered people. Nonetheless, racial segregation was granted by law, and waves of African-American Civil Rights Movements were needed to ensure that a large portion of the American population were seen as people. Yet, here he was, in the 21st century, when an African-American had been elected president twice, seeing black people march once more to show they were people, to show that their lives mattered.

He remembered another common phrase these days, _Muslim lives matter_. The First Amendment granted freedom of religion; nonetheless, he saw candidates to the presidency saying they would prohibit Muslims to enter the country, and American Muslims were being harassed for their beliefs. Superheroes were not excluded from this. Steve had more than once seen how the new Ms. Marvel, Kamala Khan, had been mistreated. Poor Kamala. On top of being a Muslim, she was a Muslim **woman**.

Women. How much latter they were granted the same civil rights that American men were granted for over a century! And here he stood, almost a century after the 19th Amendment allowed women to vote, and after waves of Women's Rights Movements, seeing women constantly mistreated and abused, considered to be less human than men. Regarding women, Steve had even been guilty of undermining their rights once. At least those of one woman, Sharon Carter. When Sharon and he first started their relationship, he wanted Sharon to give up her life as an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. That was a long time ago, but he knew he had once been guilty of that; he couldn’t let other men do what he had done, even if, just like him, they were only thinking about the safety of women. Women should be granted freedom to be able to grant themselves their own safety. No one was safer by being less free.

In these times of Patriot Acts, Superhuman Registration Acts, and their like, Steve couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to the land of the free and the home of the brave. Worse, he wondered if there had actually existed a land of the free and a home of the brave. Steve was becoming increasingly disappointed in his homeland and his fellow citizens, not to say in himself. He pondered if his own actions in favour of his country and the world at large had been of any use at all in making Earth a better place. If he were true to himself, he didn’t actually believe they had. _I can make you a **hero** again_. Had he ever been so?

When Steve became physically young again, he accepted to once more be Captain America. He knew what that symbol meant, and how much bigger than himself, Steve Rogers, it was. Even though Sam Wilson was wielding the shield, and Steve would never take it away from his beloved friend, he accepted becoming a “second” Captain America. He believed that his country needed to be reminded of the ideals on which it was founded as a nation, and that the existence of more than one Captain America would serve this purpose. In his mind, that would make the American people feel like Captain America was more than just one man; he was all around, each American being a little bit of the Star Spangled Man her/himself. However, things did not go as Steve expected, and he caught himself questioning his actions; not only his recent ones.

In the few days since he had had his physical youth restored, many people were asking for Sam Wilson to give up on the Captain America identity, for the “real” Captain America was back. Others felt like Steve Rogers, a privileged, straight, white man, couldn’t bear to see a black Captain America and was diminishing Sam Wilson so that he would give up the shield of his own accord. Steve sighed as he passed a graffiti in a wall where Sam and he were fighting. Accompanying the scene, there was a question: _who do you stand with?_

All he wanted was to keep “fighting the good fight”, especially now, when the world seemed to be mostly made of bullies. But _how_ could he keep doing that? He felt extremely displaced in time, feeling more hopeless and faithless than he had ever before. The weight of the years had just increased inside of him, and the fact that his body wasn’t in harmony with his inner self made him feel a stranger inside his own physical shell.

That feeling was extremely uncomfortable to Steve, for he was given back physical youth and the ability to do that which he couldn’t anymore. _You don’t have to go. You can stay if you like. I can make you **strong** again. I can make you a **hero** again_. He might not know for sure why he reached to the girl, but he knew that by staying, by being strong again, it was his duty to put himself to good use. In a sense, this feeling was similar to the one he had had after participating in Project: Rebirth. However, back then his mind and soul were also young, and his heart made of hope and faith. Now, his inner self was tired and weary, and he struggled to find a way to act in a manner that would make the world a better place, safer and freer.

The heart of the world might have barely changed since the 1940s, but the Star Spangled Man couldn’t act upon it in the manner he once had. Time passed, and his own time might have passed as well. As a church clock stroke another full hour, Steve realised he was out of time.

* * *

**Author's note:**

¹ Quote from _Captain America: Sam Wilson_ , issue #7.


	2. “Whither goest thou, America?”¹

Since the Pleasant Hill incident, Steve hadn’t really managed to see his girlfriend outside S.H.I.E.L.D.’s headquarters. Sharon Carter had been working a lot after the World Security Council convened a tribunal to investigate Maria Hill’s actions and to review her position as director of S.H.I.E.L.D. However, that night, a Tuesday night, Sharon had managed to get some free time to relax, having made plans with her boyfriend to go to the movies and have dinner. Unfortunately, in his aimless walk, Steve lost track of time and arrived late at the movie theatre, forcing them to cancel half of their plans for the night. To make matters worse, Steve spent the whole meal immersed in the very same thoughts he had had earlier, focusing on absolutely nothing Sharon had to say, neither on his food, which was barely touched. The girl’s words, his actions and the world haunted him.

“What is wrong with you?” Sharon asked her boyfriend as soon as they were inside her car, after having left the restaurant.

“Excuse me?” Steve knew that eventually he would have to open up to someone, but that night he wasn’t really in a mood for it. He probably should have cancelled his date with Sharon when he realised he had run late. However, he couldn’t bring himself to it since he knew how much she was in need of a break and how much she needed to spend time in her boyfriend’s company. Nonetheless, right at the moment she questioned him, he regretted his previous decision. He had been terrible company all night.

Sharon sighed after hearing her boyfriend’s answer and continued, “You haven’t been quite yourself, Steve. And I’m not only talking about tonight, I’m talking about how you have been since the Pleasant Hill incident happened. I get it, you underwent an enormous transformation, but you don’t have to make sense of it all alone! I’m here for you.” She proceeded by giving him a clearly tired, but encouraging, smile.

Steve inhaled deeply, the kind of sigh one gives when about to open one’s heart. Yet, all he did was turn his head forward, so he wouldn’t have to face his girlfriend. _You don’t have to go. You can stay if you like. I can make you **strong** again. I can make you a **hero** again_. There was so much to say, so much he wanted to share with Sharon to try and make sense of himself and the world! Unfortunately, he didn’t even know how or with what to begin. Thus, still without meeting Sharon’s eyes, all he answered her was, “There is nothing wrong with me.”

Sharon was growing impatient. Even without looking at her, Steve could feel it. “Yes, there is!” She was exasperated. “We've been together since forever, Steve. Don’t tell me I can’t see when you are not OK!” Silence. Steve just kept looking forward. Frustrated, Sharon turned her car on with a “Fine!”

They remained silent all the way to Steve’s building. There, Sharon parked and mechanically said, “Have a good night, Steve.” Feeling guilty about the manner he had treated Sharon that night, Steve drew closer to her, in order to give her a kiss, but she moved away from him before he could do so. All that was left for him was to wish his girlfriend good night and leave her car.

* * *

He didn’t have a good night of sleep. He couldn’t have had it; there was too much going on in his mind. He kept going back to that bowling alley, to the girl, to Crossbones, to the shield once more in his hands, to Sam and Bucky… And to Sharon. She didn’t deserve to be treated the way he had treated her.

After a restless, practically sleepless night, once the sun rose, Steve got dressed, had some breakfast, and went out for a run. He was mad at himself for not managing to find a way out of the swirling vortex of entropy he had found himself in. He was also far from happy for not being able to express his thoughts and sentiments to the woman he had shared most of his life with. Luckily, after a few minutes of exercise, his body started to benefit from the run, and he managed to shut the unwanted thoughts away, focusing only on the movement of his body. Feeling his raised body temperature, his accelerated heartbeat and the movement of his muscles made him forget all that which plagued him. When running, he didn’t feel like he was inhabiting an alien body, nor did he feel like he had cheated on death, peace and rest. He didn’t feel hopeless, tired and weary. He felt the harmony between his mind, soul and physical structure. He just felt his body living.

After returning home from his run, Steve was in a better mood. His mind was still disturbed, but he forced himself to focus on each mundane task at hand, from manually washing his dishes to riding his Harley to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s headquarters. Upon arriving at his destination, he went directly to Sharon’s office. He had to apologise for the night before.

“Excuse me, Commander Carter. May I come in?”

“Yes, **Captain** Rogers”, Sharon answered in a mocking tone.

“I’d like to have a word in private with you, if you wouldn’t mind.”

She didn’t. Steve went to her desk and sat down in the chair she indicated him. “I… I want to apologise. For my behaviour. Last night.” Sharon said nothing, merely watching him attentively from behind her desk. He went on. “I… I’ve been in a terrible place since Pleasant Hill. I… I just have too much going on in my head at the moment, and I don’t really know how to verbalise it. I know I’m not the best of companions at the moment, and I am truly sorry for that.”

Sharon sighed. “Steve, I understand that. Truly. But I worry about you. Can you understand that?”

“I do. I really do, Sharon.” Her eyes were a mixture of forgiveness and worry. How much he loved her!

Sharon reached for one of his hands, which he freely gave her. Caressing it, she quietly uttered, “Just don’t beat yourself up too much, OK?”

After a few silent seconds, Steve addressed her again, “I love you.”

“I know.” She answered him tenderly. Changing her tone to a matter-of-factly one, she went on, “Now get your patriotic ass out of here and find something useful to do!”

* * *

If to most people the brief conversation between Steve and Sharon seemed too brief and too formal, to them it conveyed a lot. More than the words they exchanged and the time they spent uttering them, that which was unspoken during their brief talk, all the silences, looks and gestures told them of regret and forgiveness, of worries and understanding. Through their silent discourse, Steve understood Sharon’s deep concern for him, as well as her openness to let him process whatever he needed to process by himself and her availability whenever he looked for her help. He also knew that through his silence he had told her more than he had in words, and that she was aware of his current need of introspection.

Upon leaving Sharon’s office, Steve did just what she told him to. He put his patriotic ass in movement. He knew from his earlier experience that putting himself in motion helped him not to fall into despair, so he went after something that made him useful.

That was the first time Steve went to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s headquarters after the Pleasant Hill incident. Therefore, he wasn’t surprised by the copious amount of documents waiting for him on his office table and on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s intranet. There were documents dealing with events that occurred prior to those of Pleasant Hill and many more related to this incident. As if these weren’t enough, Steve still had to write his own reports on the actions he had taken part in.

As he went through the documents, Steve pondered on whether he should give up his place as S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Chief of Civilian Oversight, after all, he had agreed on being Captain America again. He contemplated how he could exert his former role once more. Would it be better to remain attached to S.H.I.E.L.D. or would it be better to leave it and become autonomous like Sam? What would make him more useful to the world?

For a moment his mind went back to memories of his time as a freelance artist, to the joy he felt when drawing. Being autonomous would allow him to make art again, something he hardly did anymore and that he missed. Through his art he could fight the good fight in a different manner, complementing his fight as Captain America.

As quickly as that thought came, it went away. His mind went back to Brooklyn, to that graffiti where he and Sam were fighting, to the red words painted in a wall that stated _Black lives matter_. From that, his memories of the war returned, to be substituted by Pleasant Hill. _You don’t have to go. You can stay if you like. I can make you **strong** again. I can make you a **hero** again_.

_You don’t have to go. You can stay if you like._ That was what the girl had said. He knew she wasn’t talking about S.H.I.E.L.D., but for some reason, his train of thought led him to conclude that he had better stay. During the war he wasn’t sketching to fight the Nazis. The present felt so much like the years preceding the war that remaining part of   S.H.I.E.L.D. could only be the right thing to do. _I can make you **strong** again. I can make you a **hero** again_. He was strong again. He had to make himself worthy of the title of hero, and right now he felt he could only hope of being a hero if he stayed at S.H.I.E.L.D. He didn’t leave the world, so he wouldn’t leave S.H.I.E.L.D. 

* * *

The following weeks were as busy as they could possibly have been. Besides the paper work, Steve had other tasks to perform as well. S.H.I.E.L.D. would not let him go back to the field of action without being sure of his perfect physical conditions, so he was subjected to an array of health exams. He felt like he was sent back to the 1940s, when he was first turned into a super soldier. Much had changed since then, yet the weird feeling of being a human lab rat was exactly the same. It was odd for him that while he looked like the man of the 1940s, he wasn't the same man. His body was the same and yet it wasn't, having undergone many changes throughout the years. But the feeling? The feeling was scarily the same, of being a lesser man to be experimented on, as if he were little more than a guinea pig.

Those weeks were also filled with uniform and gear testing. His new shield alone took a lot of experimenting and testing. The equipment division of S.H.I.E.L.D. had created a new kind of energy shield, similar to those Steve had used in the past for different reasons. The main disadvantage of an energy shield was the fact that it couldn’t be thrown at things (and people) in case of necessity. Luckily, thanks to recent advances in the physics of photonic molecules, S.H.I.E.L.D.’s scientific and equipment divisions managed to come up with a prototype of a photonic shield that could be detached from its handle, and thrown away. 

“You see, scientists from the Harvard-MIT Center for Ultracold Atoms have managed to coax photons into binding together to form molecules, a state of matter that, until recently, had been purely theoretical!”, Agent Leo Fitz explained excitedly. “This discovery runs contrary to decades of accepted wisdom about the nature of light! Photons have long been described as massless particles which don’t interact with each other; photonic molecules, however, behave like, wait for it, a light sabre!” 

“A light sabre?” Steve was a bit incredulous; after all, light sabres were swords from the _Star Wars_ universe. Still, if truth be told, his own life had been far more unbelievable than any science fiction film. Fortunately, due to the possibility of light sabres becoming a reality, as well as to the fact that Captain America himself stood in front of him, the young agent was far too exhilarated to notice the scepticism in Steve’s tone. Fitz went on explaining how the new shield was supposed to work while Steve did his best to understand the agent’s scientific terminology. After a few weeks of experiments and tests, Steve was the owner of a photonic shield that worked perfectly 98 times out of 100, a shield he could throw at things (and people) whenever it were necessary. 2

Even though Steve was really busy in the weeks that followed his transformation, being in motion in different manners, he remained at a loss. The girl’s words still echoed in his ears. He was restless, worried and weary. Moreover, the things that kept him busy were all of them related to that wretched place and time. He had to give testimonies and write reports regarding Pleasant Hill, as well as to take part in the investigation of Maria Hill, enquiring S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel. Other than that, as Chief of Civilian Oversight, he was responsible for overseeing the search for the Whisperer, the hacker that released to the public classified information from S.H.I.E.L.D., including intel regarding its project to reshape reality, and the one who provided Sam Wilson with Pleasant Hill’s location. If those weren’t enough, Steve also had to take part in the searches for the cosmic cube that manifested itself in the shape of a four year old, Kobik, and for Bucky Barnes. 

It was hard for Steve to spend his work hours immersed in those activities and refrain from thinking about that which plagued him. Every day he delved into the same things over and over again, never to reach a conclusion. To make matters worse, he still couldn’t bring himself to open up to anyone, not even to Sharon, whom he was perfectly sure that didn’t buy any of his reassurances that everything was slowly falling back into place.

His inner turmoil was fed by the world’s craziness. Everywhere he saw unbelievable news from around the world, many of them resembling events from his chronological youth, much to his distress. One night, after coming home from work, he made the mistake of turning on his television on one of the news channels. He was met with a report on the several popular protests of recently. The piece was similar to a documentary, mixing scenes of the actual protests and some analysis by different kinds of experts.

“Our country is in serious trouble!” A woman exclaimed on top of a small stage. “We don’t have victories anymore! We used to have victories, but we have them no more! Look at our economy, for example. It is not growing as fast as it should! Countries like China, Japan, and Mexico are killing us economically! Killing us! They beat us all the time!” The crowd who listened to her murmured in agreement.

The scene was followed by an economy expert explaining the broad economic problems of the nation, and more real life footage. This time a man was protesting. “The American people have no jobs, unemployment grows by the day. Who took away from us the jobs that are rightfully ours? The Chicanos and the Yellows!” A woman chimed in, “We must build a wall along the country’s southern border and have Mexico pay for it!”

In images from another city, a man exclaimed, “We are no longer safe! The American way is being threatened by Muslims! Our military is doomed! Where are the great military minds of our generation? Where are the George Pattons and Douglas MacArthurs of the 21st century?” Steve couldn’t believe what he was listening to. He personally knew both Patton and MacArthur, and knew very well how those men were men of their times. What would Patton and MacArthur serve right now?

More analysis were followed by footage of a man lamenting the state of America’s nuclear arsenal and suggesting that the government invested in its update. “Our enemies are getting stronger and stronger with each passing day. Yet, we are becoming weaker!” What were people thinking? What good nuclear weapons would bring them? What sort of madness had overcome the common man to talk like that?!

More analysis and footage from protests all over the country. Many followed the tone of those who came before, but many others had reasonable complaints regarding Social Security and the country’s infrastructure. Steve understood those protests. Much of the current situation was similar to that of his childhood and youth. America was back at where it once was.

He was again overcome by thoughts of homeostasis and transformation, evolution and involution, progress and failure. The restlessness of the world was his own personal restlessness.

Steve sighed and turned the TV off.3

* * *

In the same manner as most of the nights after he regained his physical youth, Steve didn't have a good night of sleep. He could feel no better than in the aftermath of his encounter with Kobik. He still didn’t know what to do with himself, he didn’t feel like he was putting himself into good use. The world was restlessness and hatred kept on growing. What exactly was this world he was inhabiting? He wondered if reaching for the girl’s hand had not actually bestowed a curse upon him…

If he had accepted being Captain America once more because of its symbolism, now he wondered what Captain America really meant. Steve spent a lot of time thinking about this, reflecting on his actions as the Star Spangled Man. He also revisited Sam’s work as Captain America to come to some sort of conclusion, to no avail. When he decided to study Bucky’s period as Captain America, he came to a halt. All he could think of was how he had failed Bucky so many times, and how he had done it once more at Pleasant Hill. His friend had disappeared again, giving no one a single clue of his whereabouts.

Nothing seemed to make sense. He would wake up every single day to the same routine; to the same tiredness and weariness; to the same crazy and restless world. When he reached for the girl’s hand, peace and rest he threw aside. Yes, it could only be a curse. He had cheated on time, and now he was paying for it. It wasn’t natural to live as long as he had, retaining his youth like he had. No wonder he was lost. No wonder he felt alienated from his own body and from the world. _You don’t have to go. You can stay if you like. I can make you **strong** again. I can make you a **hero** again_. There was the catch. He didn’t **go** , he **stayed**. She made him physically strong and young again, but that meant he had gone nowhere, that he had been motionless, trapped into that which he had once been. Yes, he had stayed. He didn’t know why, but he did. Now he would have to find where to go and how to move. He would have to find a destination; not a location in space, but within himself. He had put himself in motion in all aspects of his life, except one: within. It was no longer enough to be what he once had been.

As he looked at Manhattan’s skyline at dawn, he asked himself, “where do I go?”

* * *

**Author’s notes:**

1 The title of this chapter comes from Jack Kerouac’s autobiographical novel _On The Road_. In the book, the full Kerouac’s quote is “Whither goest thou, America, in thy shiny car in the night?”

2 The information regarding photonic molecules comes from phys.org (http://bit.ly/1CPjj2J).

3 I used a speech by Donald Trump to compose the different protests that Steve saw on TV. “Credits” go to where they are due.


End file.
